


Jailbreak Blues

by menel



Series: Revival [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gabriel is a BAMF, M/M, Rescue, Unrequited Love, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Gabriel orchestrate a jailbreak while Sam stays in and sulks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So This is the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the sequel to "Blood, Sex and Magick" and literally begins where that fic ends. This fic was originally posted on my LiveJournal in May 2010.

“New England?” Dean questioned, gazing at the peaceful harbor and the yachts and other boats docked there. It looked so incongruous with the reality of a raging Apocalypse. 

“Nantucket,” Gabriel clarified. 

“Didn’t think you were a New England kinda guy,” Dean admitted. “Vegas? Yes. New England?” He let the question hang in the air. 

“Would you prefer Miami beach?”

Dean glanced at the archangel on his right. Gabriel looked deadly serious. “Uh, no,” he said. “Nantucket’s fine.” 

Gabriel held his expression a moment longer before breaking out in a sly grin. “Got you,” he said smugly. 

Dean looked away, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “Where’s Sam?” he asked after a moment. 

Gabriel pointed at the restaurant perched on the small hill behind them. “The Tavern,” he stated. “You’ll like their food.” 

Dean was mildly irked that Gabriel was presuming to know what he liked. Part of him knew that his irritation was a carryover from Gabriel’s semi-stone walling of his questions back at the hotel. But the other part of him was disconcerted by the thought that there was probably nothing Gabriel _didn’t_ know about him. Talk about one-sided. 

They walked up the short hill to the restaurant, a cozy, family-style bistro that had exceptional views of the harbor. It was nicer than the places the Winchesters were used to dining. In fact, it was all so _normal_ that Dean was starting to feel like they were in a different world. Literally. Sam spotted them the moment they entered and waved them over. He had gotten a table by a window overlooking the harbor, so there was a good chance that he’d seen them coming up the hill. 

“You realize that there’s an Apocalypse going on,” Dean said quietly as he and Gabriel walked towards his brother. It had only been several days since he had been the one encouraging Sam to take a night off to relax and recharge, but now he found that with Gabriel on their side he had a – dare he acknowledge it? – a renewed sense of hope. He wanted to get back into the game as soon as possible. 

“What? We’re not allowed to eat before tackling hell on earth?” Gabriel replied. “Think of this as a strategy session. With good food.” 

“I ordered ahead,” Sam told them as they reached the table. “Wasn’t sure when you guys would get here.” 

Dean immediately glanced at his brother to see if there was something suggestive in Sam’s words but Sam was looking at Gabriel as the archangel sat down. He shook his head. One night of angel sex and he was becoming paranoid. He was about to take the seat next to Sam when the latter blocked him by placing his laptop carrier on top of it. There was a quick exchange of fierce looks before Dean moved to Gabriel’s side and sat in the chair beside him. 

“Very subtle, Sammy,” Gabriel commented. 

“Only he gets to call me that,” Sam said, pointing at Dean. 

“Possessive,” Gabriel noted. A waiter came by and handed two menus to Dean and Gabriel. “I take it this place is better suited to your tastes?” he asked Sam. 

“It’s nice,” Sam conceded. 

Dean was thinking the same thing. The bistro was so nice that the words, “Recommend anything?” slipped out before he could stop them. A moment ago he had been annoyed that Gabriel presumed to know his tastes. Now he was asking for _recommendations_? 

“Do you want me to order for you?” 

“Listen,” Sam said, “if you two want to be alone on your date . . .” 

“What?” Dean said, his attention snapping to his brother. “This isn’t a date. We’re not dating!” he added for emphasis. 

“Breakfast is the most intimate meal for a new couple,” Sam went on, managing to keep a straight face. 

Dean was very tempted to reach over and strangle him. 

“It’s true,” Gabriel agreed solemnly. “We’re not dating. We’re just sleeping together.” 

Dean looked taken aback. “Once,” he stated. “We slept together once. Under very specific conditions.” 

“True again,” Gabriel agreed once more. “But I just want to make it very clear that I’m open to making it a regular thing. Frequent hot sex while battling the Apocalypse makes perfect sense to me.” 

“Can we talk about this later?” Dean hissed, tilting his head in Sam’s direction. Sam was watching the scene unfold with growing amusement. 

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “I thought you shared everything with him.” 

“Not this.” 

Sam sighed loudly. “Bickering like an old married couple already,” he tsked. 

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this.” Dean glared at his brother, even as he could hear Gabriel laughing beside him. He was unfairly outnumbered so he did the only thing that he could do. 

He called for the waiter.

* * * * *

By the time their orders had arrived, Sam and Gabriel had grown tired of trying to get Dean riled up. Either that or they were just hungry. In any case, Dean was relieved. Nonchalance could only go so far. Last night when he’d dreaded the thought of the morning after, he’d failed to include the possibility of Sam being part of the torture.

“So, what’s the battle plan?” Sam asked when they were well into their meal. 

Gabriel, whose waffles were swimming in syrup, shook his head. “You boys are just all business, aren’t you?” When the brothers looked at him expectantly, he gave an exasperated sigh. “What? I join the team and suddenly I’m the boss?” 

“Hardly,” Dean replied. “But you are an archangel. A fully, functioning one now.” 

Gabriel gave him a wicked grin but Dean refused to take the bait. 

“We were hoping,” Sam said, “that you would have some sort of insight.” 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Gabriel said directly. 

“Will you kill Lucifer?” Dean asked, just as directly. 

Gabriel’s expression grew hard. “I am not a kin slayer,” he said flatly. “That’s what separates me from Michael.” 

Dean understood a thing or two about brotherly love, even though having the Devil as your brother certainly put a different spin on things. “Then we’ll just have to shove the Devil back in his cage,” he said after a while. “Plan B works for me.” 

Sam was thoughtful. “I guess it works for me too. How do we go about it?” 

“Obviously, we need to get the other two rings,” Gabriel replied, digging into his waffles once more, “which means you boys are going to have to track down Pestilence.” 

“Any suggestions on how we go about doing that?” Sam inquired. 

“Follow the swine flu,” Gabriel answered. 

The brothers waited for Gabriel to elaborate, but the archangel seemed quite content with his peach waffles. 

“You’re joking, right?” Sam went on. “Follow the swine flu? The Surgeon General has classified it as an epidemic. There are outbreaks everywhere.” 

“Then I guess you’ll be very busy.” 

Dean was already thinking ahead. “What about Death?” 

“I’ll help you with Death when I get back.” 

“And where are you going?” 

“Thought I’d pay a visit to the family manor,” Gabriel said off-handedly. “It’s been a millennia or two since I’ve been home.” 

“You’re going to Heaven?” Sam asked incredulously. 

“ _Why_?” was Dean’s even more incredulous response. 

“To orchestrate a jailbreak,” Gabriel said conspiratorially. 

“And who are you busting out of paradise?” Dean’s tone remained skeptical. 

“Castiel.” 

The conversation stopped dead at the name. 

“Cas is in Heaven?” Dean was horrified at the thought, even as it explained why they hadn’t heard from Cas since Van Nuys. Although he had managed to contain his worry for Castiel, secretly this had been his worst fear. The God squad had finally caught up with the rebellious angel. 

“Probably being reprogrammed as we speak,” Gabriel confirmed. “They’re very effective at that. I need to get to him before the brainwashing is complete.” 

“And what? They’re just going to let you in through the pearly gates?” Dean asked. 

“The gates are actually made of pearl,” Gabriel mused. “At least, the main gate. And yes, they will let me in. I am an archangel, after all.” 

“Who’s been M.I.A. for centuries,” Sam reminded him. 

“All the more reason for them to miss me,” Gabriel grinned. 

“Seriously,” Dean interrupted. “You’re not going to get into any trouble just waltzing into Heaven after all this time?” 

“Dean,” Gabriel said in a mocking tone, “is that concern I hear?” Dean frowned and Gabriel knew not to push it. “I’ll be fine,” he said seriously. “Running into the other arcs might be a bit tricky, especially if it’s Raphael or Michael, but Heaven is a big place. Lots of side roads to take.” 

“Raphael?” Dean repeated. He remembered Raphael clearly, and not just because the bugger smote Cas. 

“Has a bit of a temper,” Gabe explained. “Very much a smite first, don’t ask questions later kinda guy.” 

“Lovely,” Sam noted. 

“So, we all set with the plan?” Gabriel asked. 

“No,” Dean said forcefully. “I’m coming with you.” 

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Sam ventured. 

“It’s a _terrible_ idea.” 

“Look,” Dean said, “either I come with you or you’re not going at all.” 

Instead of pointing out that there was no way Dean could actually stop him, Gabriel merely shrugged. “And how exactly do _you_ plan to enter Heaven?” 

“Kill me,” Dean replied. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

“While there are many who would jump at the chance,” Gabriel said, “I’m not one of them.” 

“You know what I mean,” Dean said testily. “Just take my soul or whatever it is you do, and then return it to my body after we get Cas.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “He makes it sound so easy.” 

“Dean,” Sam said, leaning forward to get his brother’s attention. “This isn’t a question of whether or not Gabriel can do it. It’s about how _smart_ it would be for him to do so.” 

“Listen to your brother.” 

“You going to Heaven is nuts,” Sam went on. “It would be like handing you to Michael on a silver platter.” 

“We have plenty of those in Heaven too,” Gabriel added. Both brothers glanced at him. Gabriel’s humor was going to take some getting used to. Apparently, the archangel had no sense of propriety. Or more accurately, Gabriel had an acute sense of propriety and chose to flout it. 

“I owe this to Cas,” Dean said, refusing to be swayed. “After everything he’s done for me, everything he’s sacrificed. I can’t just let them turn him back into an automaton. Not if I can do something to stop it.” 

“You’ll be helping Cas a lot more by staying here,” Gabriel said. 

Dean turned to look Gabriel in the eye. “And you owe _me_.” 

A look of real annoyance crossed Gabriel’s features, but instead of replying he chose to admire the view of the harbor. He was silent for a long while. Sam could feel the tension building at their table. His earlier joke about his brother and the archangel bickering like an old married couple didn’t seem so funny anymore. Already he sensed that whatever passed between Gabriel and Dean would be epic somehow. Neither one of them understood moderation. 

“You have to do everything I say,” Gabriel said at last. 

Dean was trying very hard not to smirk, but he couldn’t help grinning just a little. “Okay,” he said. 

“I mean it.” Gabriel’s voice was commanding. “Everything.” 

“Everything,” Dean promised. 

Sam shook his head. It was still a bad idea.

* * * * *

In the small bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the resort town, Sam was pacing the double room that he had booked for two days. He heard a flushing sound and immediately walked to his brother who was stepping out of the bathroom.

“I think all that food’s finally getting to me,” Dean said ruefully. 

“Dean, this is a really bad idea,” Sam said right away. “I know you feel like you owe Cas, and I’m not saying that you don’t,” he went on hurriedly, “but this isn’t the way to pay him back. Cas’s sacrifice will be for nothing if you get caught.” 

“Gabriel’s not going to let that happen.” 

“You’re going to put your faith in the _Trickster_.” 

“I know Gabriel’s been a dick in the past . . . “ Dean searched for the right words before throwing his hands up in defeat. “I can’t explain it,” he said with a shake of his head, “but I trust him on this.” 

“Has he put some sort of sex whammy on you?” Sam asked. “Because that’s a lot of trust.” At Dean’s warning glare, he backed down. Damn Dean’s stubbornness. If his brother couldn’t be persuaded, then Sam couldn’t see any other way around the issue. “If that’s the case, then I’m coming with you,” he declared. 

“We really gotta do something about the co-dependency in your relationship,” Gabriel interrupted. “It’s unhealthy.” 

Both brothers jumped. 

“Will you stop doing that?” Dean asked, exasperated. 

“I thought you would’ve been used to it by now,” Gabriel commented, indirectly referring to the number of times Castiel had dropped in and out of the brothers’ lives. 

“Well, we’re not,” Dean informed him. “And co-dependency or not, Sam and I are a team. If we’re gonna go down, we’re gonna do it fighting, and we’re gonna do it together.” 

Gabriel applauded. “Bravo!” Then his humor disappeared. “I know you two think that you’re the dynamic duo, but this is a solo trip. Besides, I’m not carrying too many passengers.” 

“What do you mean, too many passengers?” Dean asked. “You can’t handle two humans? Even Cas had enough plutonium left to send us back to see the folks.” 

“Bending time and sneaking into Heaven are very different things,” Gabriel replied, his patience wearing thin. “It’s not a question of ability.” He almost seemed offended. “You two aren’t just ordinary humans, or have you forgotten? You’re vessels. And not just any two vessels. You’re THE MOST WANTED vessels in all of Christendom. Taking care of the two of you – who find trouble like nobody’s business – _and_ busting out a brainwashed angel? Let’s not complicate things here.” 

Although still unhappy with the situation, Sam got Gabriel’s point. However, it didn’t make him feel any less useless. “What exactly am I supposed to do while you two are gone?” he asked grudgingly. 

“Your favorite thing.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Research. Maybe there’s a pattern in the swine flu outbreaks. Pool your resources with Bobby. It’ll give us a start on Pestilence.” 

“Now that’s settled,” Gabriel said, looking at Dean expectantly. 

“What do I have to –“ 

Dean didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Gabriel touched two fingers to his forehead and his body crumpled to the floor. 

 

TBC


	2. My Blue Heaven

Dean woke up on the cold, hard ground with a slight headache. Damn Gabriel. The archangel could’ve given him a bit more warning. He laid there for a few moments, inhaling the crisp, clean air and waited for his head to clear. Then he got to his feet and looked around. He was standing in a clearing covered in a light mist. Gabriel was nowhere to be found. 

Dean thought for a moment. Shouting for Gabriel at the top of his lungs was out of the question. Walking out of the clearing, though appealing, wouldn’t provide him with much direction. Unless he was able to find the Road again. But wait. The Road led to the Garden. Did he really want to go back there? Dean shook his head. All that seemed left to do was to wait for Gabriel to find him. The archangel had mentioned that he would be able to find Dean anywhere. Surely Heaven counted as part of ‘anywhere.’ 

A sharp gust of wind nearly made him lose his balance as a shadow passed overhead. He felt a presence near him and looking to his left, he saw Gabriel walking towards him. Dean’s chest constricted at the sight. Gabriel was heartbreakingly beautiful to him. He was still in his vessel, wearing the same clothes he had been on earth, but there was also something markedly different about him. The tips of his wings almost touched the ground as he walked, and while they remained dark in color, the light that fell on them burnished them in gold. It was the light that held Dean spellbound, the sheer overabundance of it. Gabriel was radiant, brighter than Dean thought possible. And if he had been capable of coherent thought, he would’ve wondered why his eyes weren’t being burned out of his skull. The closer Gabriel came to him, the stronger the mix of contradictory emotions Dean felt battling within him. What rose to the surface though, was the overwhelming need to kneel. Dean felt humbled in Gabriel’s presence, as if understanding for the first time the respect and adoration that Gabriel commanded. This was an angel that had seen God; an angel that had once sat on His left hand. Together with Dean’s awe was a mixture of fear and apprehension, mingling with the desire to be close to Gabriel, to touch him to make sure that he was real. Dean was losing the struggle to kneel and he was about to go down on one knee before a firm grip on his arm stopped him. 

“You will never have to do that for me,” Gabriel said. Even his voice sounded different. Beneath the human voice Dean recognized there was something stately and more resonant. Gabriel spoke with an authority that Dean had never heard on earth. 

“You belong here,” Dean said weakly, barely able to look at Gabriel’s face but also unable to look away. 

Gabriel smiled. Not one of his smirks or mischievous grins, but a genuine smile filled with peace and benevolence. “It is my home,” he said simply. 

Dean couldn’t help himself. He reached out with his left hand and touched the side of Gabriel’s face. Gabriel covered it with his own hand and held it there. “I would share it with you,” he said. 

The tightness in Dean’s chest was loosening and the turbulent emotions that had confused him began to fade until he felt that he had some control of himself again. His breathing returned to normal and he felt strangely calm. 

“Are you doing that?” he asked, aware now of how Gabriel’s arm was around his waist to steady him. 

“I’m helping,” Gabriel admitted. 

“Thanks.” 

Gabriel nodded and released him. Dean felt the loss of his touch immediately and it took all his willpower not to move into the archangel’s space again. 

“You look different,” Dean said, the observation sounding incredibly dumb to him, but Gabriel didn’t seem to mind. 

“It’s the glow,” Gabriel replied. “Angels tend to get more glow-y in Heaven.” At least, his sense of humor was still the same. 

“What now?” 

“We walk through the gates.” 

“You mean we’re not _in_ Heaven?” 

“Nope, we’re outside it.” 

“Huh,” Dean said, glancing around the clearing. “I guess that explains why I don’t see the Road.” 

Gabriel considered him for a moment. “You saw the Road the last time you were here? Not a tunnel or a river?” 

“It was a road,” Dean confirmed, “and I was in my car. And that was before everything turned to shit and I went on a psychedelic trip down memory lane.” He paused. Was he allowed to curse in Heaven? In front of an archangel? He glanced at Gabriel. 

The archangel knew what he was thinking. “You’ve never followed the rules before,” he pointed out. “Why start now?” 

Dean couldn’t argue with that. “So,” he began, “how many gates are there in Heaven?” 

“Twelve.” 

“And we’re gonna pick the least guarded gate and sneak in?” 

“Nope.” Gabriel was looking into the distance. “We’re going through the main gate.” 

“The main gate?” Dean repeated doubtfully. He shook his head. “I know I promised to do everything you say, but this? This seems kinda nuts.” 

“Have a little faith, Dean,” Gabriel answered, a comforting bit of snark returning to his tone. “It’s called hiding in plain sight. But first, put this on.”

* * * * *

“Stop scratching.”

“It’s itchy.” 

“It’s barely touching your body.” 

“Maybe this cloth has some super-secret properties that seeps through my clothes and touches my body.” 

“This isn’t _Star Trek_.” 

_Could’ve fooled me_ , Dean thought but didn’t say aloud. 

When Gabriel had said that they were going through the main gate, Dean didn’t realize he’d meant it quite so literally. But that’s how Dean found himself on a wide thoroughfare filled with other people walking towards a towering gate made of – he could hardly believe it – pearl. At least, the white lustrous surface that covered the guard towers certainly looked like pearl, although the gates themselves were made of a shiny metallic substance that Dean couldn’t identify. The gates were also flung wide open. Satan himself might have been able to walk right in. Dean would’ve thought that Heaven would be better guarded than this, especially during the Apocalypse. But perhaps what surprised Dean most of all was that no one was paying the least bit of attention to an angel walking with just another human soul. 

“Heaven has its own defenses,” Gabriel said beside him. 

“Still reading my mind, I see.” 

“Everything is magnified here,” Gabriel explained. He sounded almost apologetic. “Your thoughts are . . . “ he hesitated. “I’m not reading them on purpose. They’re just . . . you’re . . .“ Gabriel was struggling to express himself. “You’re just very close to me here,” he said at last. 

It was a typically cryptic response from the archangel who had been evasive about anything that had to do with what had happened the night before. But Dean understood that whatever weird-ass connection they now possessed was being magnified by being in Heaven. It explained why the mere presence of Gabriel had nearly overwhelmed him when they first arrived. Even now his senses were hyper-alert in a way that felt otherworldly to him. He saw his surroundings with a clarity and perspicacity that he hadn’t possessed the last time he had been here with Sam. 

They were nearing the gate. Dean pulled on his left sleeve, then on the cowl. 

“Stop fidgeting.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“Try harder. And look dignified,” Gabriel added. 

Dean had no idea how he was supposed to look dignified in the get-up he was wearing. How could anyone tell if he was looking dignified anyway? No one could see his face. 

In the clearing, Gabriel had given Dean what the latter had recognized as a monk’s attire, except for its color. Instead of the more familiar brown or black, the habit was made of silver and blue, while the roped leather cord that tied around the waist was white. The habit consisted of three pieces. The first was a silver floor-length robe or tunic that dragged on the ground as Dean walked. It was insanely heavy, and at times Dean felt as though he were walking underwater. On top of the tunic, Dean wore a navy scapula (as Gabriel had informed him), a wide piece of cloth that covered his shoulders and left an opening for his head. The last item was the cowl or special hood that monks wore. It was also silver in color, although the hem of the hood featured an intricate design that had been embroidered with iridescent navy thread. Dean suspected that the design was actually Enochian or some other equally ancient tongue. The cowl shaded his face, and if he bent his head as he was doing now, it prevented his face from being seen completely. The material was itchy, however, and that was why Dean couldn’t stop scratching whenever the cloth brushed against his cheeks or his arms. 

“A monk, Gabriel,” he hissed. “This is your great idea?” 

“I told you,” Gabriel said calmly. “You’re not a monk. You’re my acolyte. This will work. Now be quiet and act like one.” 

Dean shut his mouth. It would’ve been easier to behave like an acolyte if he knew what one was, but Gabriel had been infuriatingly vague about that detail as well. His explanation had gone about as far as saying that Dean possessed his “mark,” which the other angels would recognize and accept. Dean thought that sounded kinky, but this so wasn’t the time. Still, bearing Gabriel’s “mark” didn’t make him feel any less like cattle, or worse, like the archangel’s bitch. 

“Quit being an ass,” Gabriel had said. “It’s not a brand. It’s not even physical. It’s more of a . . . a spiritual mark. It’ll allow you to pass as my acolyte.” 

Right. 

To Dean’s alarm, Gabriel was slowing down until he had stopped in the midst of the gate’s great entrance hall. _What the hell was he doing?_

“Relax.” 

Gabriel scanned the hall. People were milling about. They gave the archangel a wide berth, although no one seemed to recognize him. Dean was starting to feel invisible, which was probably a good thing. 

“Gabriel!” a voice exclaimed. “Gabriel, is that you?” 

Dean looked in the direction of the voice and saw a middle-aged man with a longish beard moving through the crowd towards them. 

“Gabriel,” he said again when he reached them, arms outstretched. He stopped short of hugging the archangel, realizing that it wasn’t his place to do so. Instead, he bowed respectfully, unable to wipe the wide smile off his face. 

Gabriel stood before him, arms crossed and arched an eyebrow. “And since when have you cared about formality?” 

The man took that as permission and leaned forward, crushing the archangel in a bear hug, one that carefully avoided Gabriel’s wings. “It is so very good to see you!” he said, his enthusiasm infectious. “Especially after the rumors.” 

“Rumors?” Gabriel repeated, releasing the man. 

“Of your death.” 

“Grossly exaggerated.” 

“The other archangels felt it. It caused quite a disturbance among the Host,” the man explained. “It was Michael who said that it wasn’t true.” 

“And Michael is always right,” Gabriel said sarcastically. 

“I’m glad that he was,” the man said, and Dean could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Your timing couldn’t be better. The army is mobilizing. Michael will need you to resume your generalship for the final battle.” 

Dean was thankful for the hood that shielded his face as he absorbed this information. Gabriel was a _General_? It made sense but it was also pretty shocking to hear it stated so matter-of-factly. 

“If preparations are under way, that means Michael has found his vessel?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Dean Winchester?” 

“No,” the man sighed. “Those Winchesters are much craftier than we gave them credit for.” 

Dean grinned under his hood. He felt a warm tingling in his chest and realized that Gabriel’s amusement was filtering to him. He kept his head bowed and remained still. 

“So who is Michael’s vessel?” 

“It’s temporary,” the man conceded. “But it’ll do for now. Michael’s vessel is Adam,” he revealed, “the Winchesters’ illegitimate half brother.” 

“Clever,” Gabriel noted. “And it smacks of Raphael.” 

“Raphael,” the man chuckled. “He always was a little overbearing. Even more so after you skipped town. He’s Michael’s right-hand now.” 

Gabriel appeared to take this news well, but Dean felt the acute pang of loss. Whether Gabriel willed it or not, the archangel’s emotions were clear to him. Michael and Gabriel had once been very close. He could no more harm Michael than he could kill Lucifer. It made Dean wonder what Gabriel had to have gone through to be able to turn his back on his family. He had called it cowardice before, but there was also a kind of strength there. It reminded him of Sam. 

“Should I tell Michael that you’re here?” the man asked tentatively. 

“No,” Gabriel replied. “I’ll find him soon enough. Give me some peace before dealing with my brothers.” 

The man smiled in understanding. Then he looked at Dean, obviously seeing him for the first time. “How rude of me,” he said, clearly embarrassed. “You have an acolyte with you.” He waited for an introduction. 

“He’s still unnamed,” Gabriel said smoothly, as if that would explain everything. 

Apparently, it did because the man simply nodded and said, “I see. You are very fortunate,” he told Dean, “to have Gabriel as your mentor. Few archangels take on acolytes and when they do, they are very far between.” 

The conversation was completely flying over Dean’s head at this point, and he wasn’t sure if he was expected to respond. Thankfully, Gabriel placed a hand on his back and said, “We ought to go.” He looked at the people milling around the great hall. “I see you’re backed up.” 

The man looked sheepish. “The Apocalypse,” he explained. 

Before they were about to leave, Gabriel paused and looked at the man again. “One last question,” he said. “Do you know an angel named Castiel?” 

The man laughed. “You mean, who _doesn’t_ know Castiel?” he said in a tone that was worrisome to both Dean and Gabriel. “Not only did he defy the will of Heaven, but he’s been _helping_ the Winchesters. Can you believe it?” 

“Shocking,” Gabriel remarked, keeping his expression neutral. “Has he been caught?” 

“Oh, yes,” the man nodded sagely. “Not too long ago. But everything surrounding Castiel has been so mysterious. His disobedience is not passing through the usual channels. Raphael has taken charge of the situation himself.” 

Dean inwardly groaned. He knew that son-of-a-bitch had a score to settle with Cas. This jailbreak wasn’t going to be easy at all. Not that he ever expected it to be. And with their luck, they’d probably have to face Raphael along the way. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Gabriel said. “It was good seeing you too.” And with that farewell, they were on their way. 

“Pete?” Dean questioned when they were at the far end of the hall. 

“The Gatekeeper.” 

Nothing clicked. 

“Haven’t you read the Bible?” 

“Only the good bits,” Dean replied. “Like the Old Testament. Lots of sex and violence.” At Gabriel’s silence, he gave the matter some serious thought. _Pete. Pete. Probably short for Peter. Peter?_ “As in Saint Peter?” he said aloud. 

“Bingo.” 

This was getting too weird. Dean looked behind him. He could see Peter talking to a group of people. “You’re best buddies with Saint Peter?” 

“Everybody’s best buddies with Saint Peter,” Gabriel said lightly. “He’s the most informed guy in Heaven. Always in on the latest gossip. The Apostles are a pretty cool bunch of guys . . . most of them, anyway.” 

“And that’s why you wanted to pass through the main gate,” Dean said, understanding dawning on him. “So you could catch up on the latest gossip.” It looked like Gabriel had a plan after all. 

Gabriel gave him a smirk. “We picked up some valuable information, didn’t we?” 

“I noticed that Pete didn’t exactly tell us where Cas is.” 

Gabriel’s face grew dark. “He didn’t have to,” he replied. “With Raphael in charge, I know exactly where to find Castiel.” 

They stepped out of the entrance hall into warm, bright sunshine. Rolling fields of yellow-green stretched out before them, interrupted here and there by patches of trees. In the distance, Dean could see a large pool with a strange fountain in its center. There were a variety of animals, both large and small around the pool, some drinking from its water, others grazing on the grass. Dean thought he recognized a giraffe, except that it was white and appeared to have two small horns on its head. Not too far from the would-be giraffe, Dean swore he saw a unicorn and tried not to think about it. Beyond the pool were more trees and even stranger-looking triangular structures that pointed towards the sky. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that this scene was familiar to him, although that made no sense. Heaven made no sense. 

“Is this what Heaven really looks like?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this doesn’t look anything like the last time I was here.” 

“What do you know of Heaven?” 

“Well, Ash told us –“ Dean paused, wondering if he should explain who Ash was. 

“I know who Ash is.” 

Of course. 

“Well, Ash told me and Sam that Heaven isn’t one big place. It’s more like lots and lots of little places so that everyone has their own piece of Heaven. Their personal Heaven. Kinda like the Matrix.” He glanced at Gabriel. “Does it work that way for angels too?” 

Gabriel considered this. “Heaven is what you make of it,” he said at last. He lifted his hand and the scene before them shifted. It changed again and again until Dean lost track of the sandy dunes, the forests, the blue-green seas, the frozen landscapes and the snow-capped mountains. Towering skyscrapers zipped by, together with skylines that had three moons, constellations, pink sunsets, and whatever else Gabriel could conjure up from his limitless wealth of experience. 

“Are you saying you can just bend Heaven to your will?” 

“I’m saying that Heaven is what you make of it,” Gabriel repeated, changing the scene one last time to the image of rolling fields and strange creatures that they had started with. “But its basic architecture remains the same.” 

“You know that’s not really an answer.” 

Gabriel’s enigmatic smile told Dean that was all the answer he was going to get. “Let’s go,” he said brightly. 

Dean looked behind him and was surprised to see that the entrance hall was gone. There was nothing there but more yellow-green fields and unusual animals roaming around. “Weirder and weirder,” he muttered. “This your idea of a side road?” he asked Gabriel when he caught up to the angel. 

“You could call it that,” Gabriel replied. 

“Aside from the fact that I’m walking in a zoo without cages surrounded by some really trippy animals, why does this feel familiar?” 

“’Cos you’ve probably seen it before.” At Dean’s doubtful look, Gabriel added, “I’ve always been a big fan of Bosch. Good guy.” 

“We’re in a _painting_?” 

“A triptych,” Gabriel corrected with the wave of a finger. At Dean’s disbelieving look, Gabriel scoffed. “What?” he said indignantly. “I can be cultured. I’m surprised _you_ know who Bosch is.” 

“It was a guess,” Dean retorted, “and a good one.” While his retort had been automatic, Dean was relieved that it covered up his own amazement at how much he was learning about Gabriel in such a short period of time. “So, we’re in a . . . triptych.” 

“Just the first panel,” Gabriel said, reaching out to pet a giant white leopard that had begun walking beside him. “This is Bosch’s interpretation of the Garden of Eden.” 

“But you know what the real Garden of Eden looks like.” 

“Yes.” 

“Will you show it to me?” 

“No” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I like this one better.” 

“Dick.” 

They fell into a companionable silence after that and Dean found it rather peaceful walking with Gabriel in this pseudo-Garden of Eden. It almost made him forget how heavy the damn robe was or the fact that they were there for a jailbreak. They passed by the pool with the fountain and Dean double-checked the animal that he thought was a unicorn. It really was a unicorn. 

It took a while for Dean to realize that they were headed towards one of the triangular structures – he couldn’t quite bring himself to call it a building – when Gabriel suddenly stopped. He turned to Dean and held out a necklace. “You have to wear this,” he said. 

“It’s way too soon for you to be giving me jewelry,” Dean joked. 

Gabriel didn’t smile. Dean sighed and took the necklace. The archangel really was much more stuffy in heaven. And so bossy. 

“I’m not some doll that you can play dress-up with,” Dean grumbled as he slipped the necklace on. This was getting far too girly for him. He hid the necklace under the scapula. There was no reason for anyone else to see it. 

Gabriel didn’t feel the same way as he stepped forward and invaded Dean’s personal space. He reached under the scapula and pulled the necklace out, arranging it neatly on the dark blue cloth. He let his hands rest there and gave Dean the sort of grin that was entirely unsuitable for Heaven. “When we get back,” he said silkily, “you can dress me up.” 

Dean felt uncomfortably hot and it wasn’t because he was wearing the habit. He cleared his throat. “What’s with the pendant?” he asked, trying to distract himself from their sudden closeness. 

Gabriel fingered the blue and white lily that hung from the silver chain. “It’s my symbol.” 

“I thought your symbol was the trumpet.” 

“That’s my other symbol.” Gabriel stepped back, the seriousness returning to his demeanor. “Castiel’s inside,” he said, indicating the structure before them. “Just stay behind me, and don’t talk.”

* * * * *

Dean was in a white lobby. He felt conspicuously out of place in his silver habit in the clean, almost antiseptic nature of the room. The lobby was bare of furniture, save for a long white counter where a man dressed in a sharp black suit was reading from an enormous red, leather-bound book. Gabriel walked towards him, stopping in front of him with Dean on his right.

“I’m here to see Castiel,” Gabriel said to the man. 

The man continued reading, not even glancing up as he replied, “No one can see Castiel.” There was a hint of derision in his voice. “Raphael’s orders.” 

“Those orders don’t apply to me.” 

The man’s head jerked up and his eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and fear. “Forgive me, Gabriel,” he said, bowing as he spoke. “I didn’t know it was you.” 

“Castiel,” Gabriel repeated, ignoring the man’s apology. 

The man hesitated. “Raphael . . .” he began. 

“Can answer to me,” Gabriel snapped. 

The man flinched. Dean could feel the power emanating from Gabriel, a tangible force that was filling the room with its invisible presence. 

The man shrunk backwards and ran a finger down one of the pages of the book. “Detention Room 8,” he said quietly. He turned the book around and held out a black fountain pen to Gabriel, whom he clearly expected to sign in it. 

Gabriel looked at him darkly, and Dean felt the menacing force that now radiated from the archangel. The man took the hint and turned the book back to face him, keeping his head bowed in deference. Then Gabriel turned to his right and nodded at Dean to follow him. They headed towards a wall and Dean wondered if they were going to walk right through it when a door materialized before them. It opened into a long white corridor. Dean glanced behind him after they stepped inside and sure enough, the doorway had disappeared. 

“I feel like I’m in _2010: A Heaven Odyssey_ ,” Dean said quietly. 

He cringed at his own joke. The detention center was making him nervous. Who knew so much white and emptiness could be so threatening? He had figured that a jailbreak would involve sneaking in and defeating angelic guards, and then making a quick getaway. As it was, they hadn’t encountered any resistance whatsoever, unless you counted the Mr. Smith lookalike in the lobby, who had clearly been cowed by Gabriel’s authority. He was beginning to think that Gabriel was literally going to walk into Cas’s detention room and just zap them all out of there. That would be nice but whenever things were this easy, Dean knew something horrible was about to happen. That something horrible appeared at the far end of the corridor as Raphael and two of his hench angels rounded the corner. Dean froze. 

“Go,” Gabriel ordered. 

Dean was about to ask where when he saw that another corridor had materialized on his right. “How will I find Cas?” he asked. 

“The pendant,” Gabriel replied. 

There was no time for explanation as Gabriel pushed him through. Dean stumbled inside. He quickly turned around, but it was too late. The doorway was gone and he was staring at another white wall. He pounded his fist against it in frustration, but he knew that it was futile. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and was faced with another white corridor but there were no doors on either side. At least, there were no doors that Dean could see. He looked down at the pendant resting on his chest. How the hell did this thing work? He thought of the amulet that Cas had asked for in his mad search for God. Cas had said that the amulet would glow white hot in God’s presence. Maybe this pendant did something similar. In another context, the idea of Castiel EMF would’ve been funny but Dean pushed the thought out of his mind and began walking. 

Every few steps Dean glanced down at the pendant. There was no change. He kept walking. The corridor seemed endless and he remembered Gabriel’s explanation that the basic architecture of Heaven remained the same. Surely, the detention center couldn’t be a single endless corridor. Dean felt something warm against his chest and looked down. The pendant was glowing a fierce blue. He stopped. Now what? 

On his left was a white wall, on his right another white wall. Castiel may have been near, but how was he going to get to him? Dean didn’t realize it, but he had reached out and placed his left hand on the wall to his left. The pendant burned with an even brighter intensity. Words entered his mind, and he found himself saying them out loud even though he had no idea what they meant. They sounded like a spell. The wall was fading and a doorway appeared in its place. Dean stepped inside. Another white room. 

This one was smaller than the lobby and it was also bare. At Dean’s presence however, the light that had been illuminating the room switched off and Dean was left in darkness, his attention drawn to the remaining source of light at the room’s center. It fell like a spotlight upon Castiel who was lying splayed on a giant metal pentagram, his wrists and ankles bound. Dean hurried over to him, his robe swishing over the smooth floor. He climbed over the pentagram’s outer ring, ungracefully hauling the robe with him. 

“Cas?” he said quietly, examining the cuffs that bound the angel’s wrists. They looked ancient but Dean suspected that they were infused with some sort of magic. Castiel had been stripped to the waist. The sigil that he had used to banish the angels at Van Nuys remained an ugly red mark on his chest, the wound being prevented from healing. There were other marks on Castiel’s body; Enochian symbols ran down his arms, burned there as though he had been branded. More symbols surrounded the sigil on his chest. These wounds also refused to heal. 

“Cas?” Dean said again, a little more loudly this time. 

Castiel’s eyes fluttered open, but there was no recognition there. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Dean said, even though he had no idea how to break the cuffs. 

“Who are you?” Castiel’s voice was sluggish and he seemed unable to focus on Dean. 

Remembering that he was wearing a hood, Dean slipped it off so that the angel could see his face. “Cas, you know who I am?” 

“Dean.” 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “How do I get these off?” he asked, trying to lift one of the handcuffs. 

“You can’t.” Cas still spoke plainly. A puzzled expression crossed his features. “Why are you wearing that?” 

“Long story.” 

“Gabriel,” Cas breathed. 

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere holding off the bad guys,” Dean explained. “We don’t have a lotta time. Some help?” 

“There is nothing you can do.” 

Great, Cas was an even bigger defeatist in Heaven. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve bucked the odds before,” Dean told him. 

His eyes rested on the pendant. It was still glowing, the light throbbing against his chest. He had a crazy idea. He took the necklace off and placed the pendant against the lock of the handcuff. Dean didn’t know what he expected to happen, he was just hoping that something _would_ happen and it did. With a hissing sound, the pendant burned through the lock, leaving behind a hole in the shape of a lily. Cas’s eyes widened in surprise. Dean grinned. 

“Cool,” he said and quickly set to work on the other three cuffs. 

No sooner had Cas manage to swing his feet off the pentagram than the outer ring burst into flame. The fire came from the metal ring of the pentagram, but it defied physics by spreading both upwards and downwards, creating a solid wall of flame. 

“Shit,” Dean said, grabbing the hem of his robe to prevent it from catching fire. He stood as near to the center of the pentagram as possible, one arm supporting Castiel. The angel was sitting on the edge of one of the metal segments, breathing heavily. It had taken all his effort just to sit upright. He leaned against Dean as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy fire,” he gasped. “Precautionary measure.” 

“How considerate,” Dean said. “Now what?” 

Castiel didn’t respond. Dean glanced down. The angel was out cold. They were so screwed. 

_Gabriel_ , Dean said silently. _I need your help._

Nothing. Just the empty room and the fire crackling around them. 

_Gabriel._

Dean willed the archangel to hear him. It was the closest thing he’d come to prayer in a long time. Then there were voices. They came quietly at first, but grew steadily until they were raucous and overlapping, an unintelligible mass of words and speech that threatened to explode in Dean’s head. 

_Dean._

The voices subsided a fraction as one came to the fore. 

_Dean._

“Gabriel,” Dean said weakly. The pain in his head was intense, as though a thousand knives were being driven into his skull. 

_The pendant._

Dean had put the necklace back on after using it to free Castiel. Now he ripped the chain from his neck, afraid that he might lose consciousness before Gabriel told him what to do. 

_Break it!_

Dean was hardly aware of dropping the necklace on the floor. He didn’t feel in control of his body as he watched the pendant being crushed under the heel of his boot. A blue light emanated from under his foot as the pendant shattered. It rose upward like a blue flame, glowing brighter and brighter until it looked like pure white light. There was a commotion in the room. More voices. More yelling. Dean thought he heard Raphael, but he could no longer tell the difference between the voices in his head and the voices in the room. There was the beating of wings and the brush of warm air against his face. The light from the pendant was starting to blind him and the curtain of flames made it impossible to see what was happening. Dean shut his eyes and gripped Castiel tighter. Gabriel was speaking, his voice rising like thunder above all the others. The ground was shifting beneath Dean and then he was falling. 

 

TBC


	3. Communion

Sam snapped his cell phone shut. That conversation went about as well as could be expected. He’d just brought Bobby up to speed on the last few days. That included telling him about being kidnapped by the gods, the showdown with Lucifer, Gabriel’s death, Gabriel’s resurrection, Dean banging the archangel to give him back his grace, being zapped to Nantucket for breakfast where a ridiculous plan had been hatched for Dean and Gabriel to bust Castiel out of Heaven. Oh, and Sam was trying to track down Pestilence so they could get his ring, and eventually Death’s ring too because the plan was now to trick Lucifer back into his cage to stop the Apocalypse. After some mandatory cursing and yelling that Sam and Dean were suicidal morons who were going to be the death of him, Sam thought that Bobby took the news very well. 

Sam rubbed his eyes before focusing on the computer screen. He’d done a full day of research trying to find a pattern in the swine flu outbreaks. He was right. They were all over the country, but they seemed to be more concentrated in the east. If Pestilence was nearby, at least they were in the right part of the country. Based on the news reports, there didn’t seem to be anything special about these swine flu cases aside from their number. There were no incidences of violence among the victims or any other unusual symptoms that were outside the scope of the flu. But Sam also knew that he couldn’t rely on these reports alone. He needed to go to the hospitals to see the victims for himself and interview some doctors. He’d do that as soon as Dean got back. The thought of his brother made Sam look over at the bed where Dean’s body lay. Sam hated the waiting, the feeling of powerlessness. He never should’ve agreed to let Dean go on his own. He turned back to the computer screen. 

A loud intake of breath made Sam turn around again. Dean was gasping for air, clutching his chest as he sat upright in bed. 

“Dean!” Sam jumped out of his seat and ran to his brother’s side. The smell of smoke greeted him as he leaned over Dean. Sam did a quick check. Dean didn’t seem to be burned anywhere, but the smell was strong and it mingled with another scent that Sam recognized, something metallic and earthy. Blood. 

“Cas,” Dean managed to get out. “Where’s Cas?” 

Sam looked around. The room was empty. He rushed into the bathroom. Empty. He opened the door. The hallway was clear. He stepped outside and listened for the sound of commotion to indicate that an angel had just landed somewhere unexpected in the small bed and breakfast where they were staying. There was none to be heard. 

“I don’t think he’s here,” Sam said, returning to their room. 

Dean was now sitting on the side of his bed, still trying to regain his breath. “That’s impossible,” he said vehemently. “There’s no way Gabriel would’ve just left him up there. Not after all that.” 

“All what?” 

Dean ignored him and stood up. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“Find out, will you?” Dean was trying desperately to rein in his panic. 

Sam went back to his laptop. He wasn’t going to press Dean when his brother was this agitated. Something pretty bad must’ve happened upstairs for Dean to be so on edge. A quick search turned up the Nantucket Cottage Hospital, the only hospital in the area. Before Sam knew it, they were in the Impala, Dean behind the wheel driving so recklessly it was a miracle that they weren’t pulled over by the cops. Dean parked the car near the emergency entrance of the hospital and strode inside. 

“Hey,” he said, stopping a pretty young nurse near the entrance. He flashed her his best concerned smile. “Sorry to bother you ,” he said apologetically, “but I’m looking for my friend. I don’t suppose a guy just . . . “ Dean faltered, “ . . . appeared here not too long ago?” 

Sam cringed. 

“Appeared here?” the nurse repeated. 

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “I know that sounds strange, but he’s a strange guy. Don’t suppose you heard of someone just . . . appearing in the ER?” 

The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but my shift just started five minutes ago. Maybe someone else knows something.” She looked sympathetic. “Try the reception,” she suggested. 

“Thanks,” Sam told her, noticing how Dean was already scanning the small ER. “Why do you think Cas is here?” he asked his brother as they walked to the reception area. 

“He didn’t look so good upstairs,” Dean replied distractedly. “Maybe Gabriel knew that he’d need medical help or something when he got back.” 

“Since when do angels need medical help?” 

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean said impatiently. “Maybe Raphael did some really funky shit to him. His wounds weren’t healing upstairs. Who knows if they’ll heal down here?” 

“Raphael?” 

“I’ll explain later,” Dean said, focusing his attention on the receptionist. “Hi,” he said, “we’re looking for our friend. We think he came in about forty-five minutes ago, maybe less.” 

“Name?” 

“He didn’t have any I.D. with him,” Dean explained, “so he might not be listed.” 

“Oh.” Something clicked. “The strange gentleman that showed up in the ER?” 

“That would be him,” Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with sandy blonde hair, gave Dean a stern once-over. “The one with the mutilations on his body?” 

Dean flinched and Sam no doubt looked surprised. “Uh, is that what you call them?” Dean asked, attempting some humor. 

The receptionist was not amused. “The doctor will want to speak with you,” she said. “Your friend’s in Room 17. Second floor.” 

“Thanks,” Sam said since Dean was already down the hallway.

* * * * *

Castiel was resting when the Winchesters got to his hospital room. Dean left Sam to come up with some story to tell the doctor who was doing the rounds. He was jarred by the sight of seeing Castiel out of his holy accountant attire and in a blue hospital gown, lying down in a hospital bed. He never thought the angel could look so frail, so utterly human. Dean sat down in the chair beside the bed, his eyes running over the bandages that covered Castiel’s arms. Some blood was still seeping through and they would need changing eventually. Castiel appeared to be asleep, a most disconcerting thought given that angels didn’t need sleep. Sam joined him after a little while, leaning against the windowsill behind Dean. The look he gave his brother told Dean that the doctor had been satisfied with Sam’s story. Dean reminded himself to ask Sam about that story later on.

“Did you know that Gabriel means ‘strength of God’?” Sam asked after a while to break the silence in the room. 

“Did you know that Gabriel is a General in God’s army?” Dean asked in return, a slight smile touching the corners of his lips. 

“Seriously?” 

Dean couldn’t see his brother, but he could easily imagine the amusement coupled with disbelief on his face. 

“That’s what Pete said.” 

“Pete?” 

“Saint Peter.” Dean purposefully enunciated each word. 

“That kind of trip, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

There was a short silence. 

“Think Gabriel’s all right?” 

Dean shook his head. “Dunno,” he said truthfully. “Things were messed up when we left.” He paused. “Gabriel knows what he’s doing up there,” he said after some thought. “He’s pretty powerful.” 

“Gabriel is very powerful,” a weak voice agreed. “He is a high-ranking archangel.” 

“Cas?” Dean immediately leaned forward and Sam moved from his place by the windowsill to stand beside his brother. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like I just fell to earth.” 

“Was that a joke?” 

Cas’s weak smile confirmed that it was. 

“Damn,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “We’ll make a human out of you yet.” 

“You won’t have to try very hard.” 

The brothers exchanged worried looks. 

“What did they do to you up there, Cas?” Sam asked. 

“What they thought I deserved.” 

Dean stood up. “Cas, you should rest. Get your strength back,” he said. “You can tell us about it later.” 

“Dean.” Cas grabbed Dean’s wrist before he could move away. “I owe you an apology.” 

Dean shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

But Cas stubbornly held on to Dean’s wrist. “I should never have lost faith in you.” 

Dean felt the weight of that piercing blue gaze and he almost couldn’t bear it. He was a poor substitute for what had been Cas’s faith in God. But if the angel needed to believe in him in order to keep going, then so be it. He squeezed Cas’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, attempting some light-heartedness. “I’ll find some other way to disappoint you.” 

The comment made Cas smile as he laid his head back on the pillow. His human charge had the oddest sense of humor and half the time he didn’t understand what Dean was saying, but that didn’t matter. They were together again and they were safe for the time being. He could rest for a little while. 

Dean tapped Sam’s arm, motioning that his brother should follow him. They moved away from Castiel’s bed and spoke in low tones. 

“What did the doc say?” Dean asked. “Can we take Cas out of here?” 

“He’s lost a lot of blood and he’s pretty weak,” Sam replied, “but physically he should be fine. They’re more worried about his mental health.” 

“His mental health?” 

Sam shrugged. “To the untrained eye the marks on Cas’s body probably look like Satanic symbols or some other kind of ritualistic black magic,” he hypothesized. “The staff thinks they were self-inflicted.” 

“Yeah, because Cas is the type to carve up his chest and arms.” Dean paused, suddenly remembering the sigil on the angel’s abdomen. He shook his head. “So, what did you say to all this?” 

“Well, I told him that _our brother_ had been severely depressed for the past month.” 

“Our brother, huh?” Dean glanced back at the bed. At this point, Cas was practically family. 

“Yeah, the doctors recommended him for a psych evaluation.” 

“We gotta get him out of here before that.” 

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea for Cas to talk to someone,” Sam suggested. “I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s been depressed.” 

“That’s what he has _you_ for,” Dean said pointedly. “A shrink asks Cas who he is and he’ll reply, ‘an angel of the Lord.’ You figure out how the conversation’s going to go from there.” 

Sam didn’t comment. “So, what do you want to do?” 

“We’ll let him rest and then sneak him out of here.” 

“You’ve really thought this out.” 

Dean looked at him wearily. “We’ll work out the details later,” he said. “I need coffee.” 

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “You need to rest too,” he said seriously. 

“Eventually,” Dean agreed, stepping out of the room.

* * * * *

Getting Cas out of the hospital proved to be a rather straightforward matter once Sam had convinced the doctors that Cas had received treatment for his ‘delusions of persecution’ before and that they’d take their brother back to his former psychiatric hospital immediately. Of course, said psychiatric hospital was actually Bobby’s house back in Sioux Falls and that’s how Dean found his rest during the twenty-five hour drive to South Dakota. Cas also slept most of the way, unable to stay conscious for long periods of times. When he was awake, they tried to glean as much information from him as they could about what the angels had done to him in Heaven. Cas’s punishment was severe. His rebellion would cost him his grace, a slow and painful process of transformation that would trap him in the body of his human vessel. Dean and Gabriel had gotten him out before Raphael could complete the ritual, but that wouldn’t prevent the outcome, merely slow it down even more. According to Cas, there was no way for the brothers to reverse what Raphael had done and so they had agreed that Cas would wait it out at Bobby’s home. Secretly, Dean believed that Gabriel could do something about Castiel’s condition, but he didn’t bring it up with the angel or his brother. Neither did he want to leave Castiel at Bobby’s alone, but time was running out and they were no closer to finding Pestilence. And that was why he and Sam were back on the road, visiting hospitals and speaking to doctors and nurses. Now they finally had a lead and they were pursuing it. Throughout this, Dean’s thoughts often drifted to Gabriel and he wondered how the archangel was doing and why they hadn’t heard from him in over a week.

“It’s nice to know I’m missed.” 

Dean swerved the Impala in surprise. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and sure enough, there was Gabriel sitting squarely in the middle of the backseat, arms crossed with the trademark smirk on his face. Sam had instantly turned around. 

“Gabriel!” he exclaimed. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“Ah, I can just feel the love,” Gabriel rejoined. “I’ve been with my family. Where else?” 

“And how was that?” Dean asked, more testily than he had intended. 

“Crappy,” Gabriel replied. “It’s the Apocalypse. What’d you expect?” He paused. “How are things going down here?” 

“Crappy,” Dean shot back. “It’s the Apocalypse. What’d you expect?” 

“Enough,” Sam said with exasperation. “We’re supposed to be on the same side, right?” He looked from his brother to the archangel for confirmation. 

“Right,” Gabriel agreed, giving Dean a pointed look in the rearview mirror. “So, what’s been going on down here?” he repeated. 

“Finally got a lead on Pestilence,” Sam explained. “We’re following it up now.” 

“And where did you get this lead from?” 

“Crowley,” Dean answered. “We’re on our way to meet him.” 

The Impala came to a stop so suddenly that both brothers were thrown forward. 

“Crowley?” Gabriel repeated, his voice laced with warning. “The _demon_ Crowley?” 

The awkward silence confirmed Gabriel’s suspicions. 

“How can you trust a demon?” Gabriel exploded. He glared at Dean. “Haven’t you learned anything from your brother?” 

“Finally,” Sam said quietly. 

Dean looked at his brother accusingly. 

“Someone had to say it.” 

Dean turned around in his seat to face Gabriel. “Look,” he said, “I never said anything about trusting Crowley. But things got beyond desperate about two months ago. You haven’t been around, Bobby’s out of ideas, Cas is bleeding out his grace as we speak, and Sam and I can’t visit every hospital in the goddamned country in the _hope_ of running into Pestilence. This opportunity presented itself and we’re gonna take it. End of discussion.” 

Dean took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to launch into a tirade but Gabriel’s accusation had struck a chord with him. Every bone in his body resisted the idea of trusting Crowley, but he couldn’t see any other way. Strangely though, Gabriel’s eventual response had nothing to do with the demon. Dean’s little outburst had reminded the archangel of something else. 

“Where’s Castiel?” 

“He’s back at Bobby’s,” Sam replied. 

“I need to see him.” 

“Great,” Dean said. “You take care of Cas and we’ll go meet Crowley.” 

“We’re _all_ going to see Cas.” 

“That’s a fifteen-hour drive,” Sam commented, implying that Crowley was expecting them soon. 

“Crowley can wait,” Gabriel said with finality. “If you two knuckleheads think that I’m going to let you out of my sight to have a tête-à-tête with Lilith’s former right-hand demon –“ 

“Look,” Dean interrupted, “thanks for your concern, but we can handle –“ 

There was a loud snap and Dean was finishing his sentence in Bobby’s salvage yard where the Impala was now conveniently parked. Gabriel was already out the door and headed towards the house. Dean sighed and rested his head against his seat. 

“That’s so not fair,” he complained. 

“Angels,” Sam agreed. 

They remained seated in the car a moment longer until the sound of a shotgun moved them into action and they rushed into the house. When they entered they found Bobby in his wheelchair, shotgun aimed at Gabriel and ready to fire again. Gabriel was dusting himself off, looking more annoyed than anything else. 

“Whoa, Bobby,” Dean said, moving to stand in between Gabriel and the older hunter. “This is Gabriel.” 

“The archangel?” 

“Yeah.” 

Bobby gave Gabriel a once-over. “Don’t they teach you manners in heaven, boy?” he said at last. “Barging into people’s houses is how you get shot.” 

Gabriel’s lips quirked into a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Bobby Singer,” he said, before walking past him into the den where Castiel was resting. Dean followed him. They’d set Castiel up in the large window seat where Bobby could keep an eye on him. 

“How’s he doing?” Dean asked. 

“Not great,” Gabriel replied, placing a hand above Castiel’s chest. “I’ll take him upstairs.” 

Dean was jolted by the wind that brushed by him as Gabriel and Castiel disappeared. “Guess we’ll wait down here,” he said to the empty space.

* * * * *

It was evening and Sam, Dean and Bobby were seated around the kitchen table, each nursing their second bottle of beer when they heard a creak on the staircase. Dean stood up immediately and stepped into the hallway just in time to see Castiel round the bottom banister. He was back in his tax collector outfit as though nothing had happened.

“Cas,” Dean said, the relief evident in his voice. “You look . . . as stuffy as ever.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel replied. He walked past Dean into the kitchen where Sam’s eyes lit up upon seeing him. 

“Castiel,” Sam said, smiling broadly. “You okay now?” 

“We shall see,” Cas replied, eyes resting on Bobby. 

Dean had followed the angel and was now leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching as Castiel walked towards Bobby. Castiel’s gaze was so intense that Bobby unconsciously leaned backwards as Castiel stood over him. He bent down and placed his right hand on the hunter’s knee. He didn’t say anything, just looked briefly into Bobby’s eyes before straightening up again. Bobby appeared confused. Castiel stepped away, giving him some room. Bobby gripped the armrests of his wheelchair with both hands. He hesitated, a momentary fear passing through his eyes. He glanced up at the angel, who nodded in encouragement. Dean didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath in anticipation. He released it as Bobby placed his left foot on the ground, then his right, standing up for the first time since that terrible demonic possession so many months ago. Bobby gripped Castiel’s forearms hard enough to bruise an ordinary man, but only met with the steel beneath the flesh. 

“Thank you,” he said, almost choking on the words. 

Dean quickly looked at the floor, brushing his fingers across his eyes. Sam wasn’t even trying to hide his emotions. 

“It seems I am fine,” Castiel said so matter-of-factly that it instantly diffused the emotion in the room. 

Sam let out a laugh. “You’re better than fine, Cas,” he said. 

Dean, on the other hand, was feeling an immense fatigue falling over him. At first, he thought it was the relief of seeing Bobby on his feet again, but quickly realized that it was more than that. He felt as though his energy was slowly being drained out of him and instead of casually leaning against the kitchen doorway, he now found that the doorway had almost become a prop to help him remain standing. 

“Where’s Gabriel?” he asked. 

“Gabriel is resting,” Castiel replied. He turned around and his eyes fell on Dean with concern. “Are you all right, Dean? You look peaked.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean brushed away the angel’s concern with a wave of his hand. “Rest sounds good to me too. We’ll . . . uh . . . we’ll go see Crowley in the morning.” He turned around before anybody could say anything and left three perplexed people behind him. 

Dean gripped the railing of the staircase more tightly than usual as he climbed up the stairs. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to see Gabriel, as though the archangel were calling him somehow. _Don’t be ridiculous_ , he told himself. Gabriel’s voice wasn’t in his head, but he didn’t want to consider the other ways that the archangel could possibly reach him. What could the archangel need him for anyway? 

When Dean reached the second floor, he instinctively knew that Gabriel was in the first bedroom on the right. He didn’t bother to knock but walked straight in, absently noting to himself that he was picking up the archangel’s bad habits. Gabriel lay partially on his right side on the queen-sized bed, his wings displayed in full view. His left wing was completely stretched out across the width of the bed, the lower half of his wing spilling over the bed’s edge. His right wing was mostly flush against his side, folded in such a way that he wouldn’t crush it. Dean stopped. Gabriel’s eyes were shut, a strange enough sight for an angel. He probably shouldn’t disturb him. Dean was about to leave when Gabriel’s voice stopped him. 

“Don’t go.” 

Dean hesitated. He’d left the door open behind him and he went to shut it before coming closer to Gabriel. It didn’t escape his notice that the fatigue that had come over him so suddenly, waned the moment he entered the bedroom. 

“You don’t look so hot.” 

“Reversing Raphael’s edict really took it out of me,” Gabriel muttered. “Don’t even have the energy to cloak my wings.” 

“Anything I can do?” The offer was made before Dean had a chance to really think about it. 

Gabriel seemed to be studying him and Dean couldn’t decide what he hated more, the scrutiny or the awkwardness of standing by the bed. The archangel reached a decision and folded back his left wing, giving Dean room to sit or stretch out beside him. Dean looked at the empty space uncertainly. This seemed dangerously close to a chick-flick moment to him. Gabriel stayed silent, waiting and watching Dean carefully. Dean thought back to the night they had spent together and remembered how Gabriel had waited for him then too. How Gabriel had made him comfortable. This Gabriel was different from the one who sated his desires immediately, who seemingly had no patience for whatever obstacle was in his way. This was the Gabriel that few knew and Dean was oddly touched by that knowledge. He swallowed some pride and sat beside the archangel, stretching his legs before him as he leaned back against the headboard. What he completely didn’t expect was the large wing that draped itself across his body. Dean tensed. Gabriel’s wings had briefly touched him once before, the morning after in the hotel room when they had shared that kiss. Dean would never have dared to touch Gabriel’s wings on his own, but the sensation was familiar. There was the coolness of the wing followed by the slight tingling where it made contact against his skin. He wasn’t sure what the archangel expected him to do. 

“You could groom them,” Gabriel suggested. “Straighten out some of the feathers. Angels find the action very . . . relaxing.” 

Dean slowly lifted his arms from underneath Gabriel’s wing. He really had no idea what he was doing but if grooming would help Gabriel somehow, then he’d give it a go. Gingerly, he reached forward and brushed his hand over the smaller feathers near the bend of the wing, working his way outwards to the median and larger feathers. When he came across a kink in the smoothness of the pattern, he reached in a little deeper and straightened the feather from its base. It was at these moments that the tingling sensation from Gabriel’s wings grew stronger, as though a burst of static were dancing across his fingertips. Gabriel, meanwhile, had closed his eyes and was melting into the bed from contentment. Dean was pleased that he appeared to be grooming the wing correctly and he grew more confident in his actions. He was so wrapped up in the task at hand that he didn’t notice that Castiel had appeared in the room. 

“Hey,” he said, awkwardly stopping when he caught sight of Cas. “Been there long?” 

“A few minutes,” Castiel replied, unable to hide the surprise on his face. “I should go. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to check on Gabriel.” 

“You’re not disturbing anything,” Dean hurriedly said. “Is he . . . ?” He glanced at the archangel who appeared to be asleep. 

“No,” Cas answered. “He is not sleeping in the way humans do. It is more like a state of hibernation so that he may regain his strength. I am in his debt for combating Rafael’s spell.” 

Dean nodded slowly. That was more of an explanation than Gabriel had given him. “How long will he be like this?” he asked, only realizing now how vulnerable Gabriel might be in this condition. 

“I am not sure.” Castiel frowned. He looked troubled. His eyes were fixed on Dean’s hands, which were moving methodically over Gabriel’s wing. “You can see Gabriel’s wings,” he blurted out, the confusion evident in his tone. 

“That’s not normal, is it?” 

“No.” 

“I don’t suppose I could see your wings too?” Dean asked, half-jokingly. 

“No,” Castiel repeated and he sounded almost sad. 

Dean couldn’t quite place the expression on Castiel’s face until the angel looked away and murmured something about taking his leave. Castiel was embarrassed. Something about the situation was making him deeply uncomfortable. 

“Am I doing this wrong?” 

Cas looked back. “No,” he said, a little too sharply. He took a deep breath. “No,” he repeated, in a more measured tone. “What you are doing is fine.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“It’s just . . . “ Castiel hesitated. “Grooming is a very . . . intimate gesture for us. One that is really only done between . . . “ 

Dean’s eyes grew wide and he took immediate stock of the situation. _Damn Gabriel. Why didn’t he tell him these things?_

“I see,” he said slowly. 

Castiel was torn. He wanted to say more but didn’t feel it was his place. “I’m surprised that you can see his wings at all,” he eventually said. There was an accusatory note in his tone, although Dean couldn’t understand why that should be so. “That can only mean one thing.” 

“What’s that, Cas?” Dean was leaning forward now. He knew that Castiel was on the verge of telling him something terribly important, something that had been eluding him since that night in the hotel. 

“You don’t know?” The angel was looking at him in wonder. 

“Then tell me,” Dean urged. 

Castiel shook his head. “It is not my place,” he said. 

There was the rush of wind and Dean was staring at the empty space where the angel had just been. “Damnit,” he muttered. What did he have to do to get any answers around here? 

* * * * *

Dean soon found out that hibernation turned the archangel into a virtual marble statue, and the wing draped over his body eventually felt like an immense stone weight. Dean didn’t want to wake Gabriel up – he didn’t think he’d be able to anyway – so he did his best to maneuver from underneath the wing. It took him almost an hour to pry himself loose from Gabriel’s grip, and he spent the time making a mental note to not get trapped underneath an angel’s wings again. As Dean closed the door to the bedroom, he caught sight of his brother who was coming up the stairs. 

“Sam,” he said. 

Sam looked up. “Hey,” Sam replied. “Think I’m going to follow your lead and have an early night as well.” He looked at Dean closely. “You’re looking a lot better. What happened to you downstairs?” 

“It’s not important,” Dean said. “Listen, have you seen Cas?” 

“I think he’s out back.” 

Dean thought for a moment and then looked at his brother with the sort of glint in his eye that always made Sam worry. 

“Could you do something for me?” 

Sam knew he was in trouble now. “What?” he asked warily. 

“Could you go downstairs and talk to Cas?” 

“About?” 

“Something awkward happened a while ago,” Dean began. “Cas just sort of appeared in the room when I was grooming Gabriel’s wings and –“ 

“Wait,” Sam held up a hand to stop Dean. “You can see Gabriel’s wings?” 

Dean paused. He’d forgotten to mention that detail to his brother. “Uh, yeah,” he said sheepishly. 

“Since when?” 

“Since the whole grace thing,” Dean said, trying to make it sound like not such a big deal. 

“What else can you do?” 

“That’s the thing,” Dean said, “I don’t know because Gabriel hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming. But Cas knows. He took one look at the whole wing-grooming thing and just _knew_.” 

“So?” 

“So, he wouldn’t tell me either!” Dean couldn’t believe how exasperating the entire situation was. “All he said was something about it not being his place.” 

“Maybe it’s not,” Sam suggested. The look on Dean’s face told Sam that his brother thought otherwise. “And what makes you think he’d tell me?” he asked, already anticipating his brother’s request. 

“Because you’re good at that sort of stuff,” Dean said, gesturing encouragingly. “You know, getting people to talk about their feelings? Besides, weren’t you the one who suggested that Cas _should_ talk to somebody?” 

Sam sighed. “Look, I’m sorry that you’re having problems with your angel boyfriends, but doesn’t this seem kinda high school to you?” 

“Wouldn’t know, wasn’t there long enough,” Dean retorted. He took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to be so snappish. It was time to try another approach. “Come on, Sammy,” he coaxed, “aren’t you the least bit curious to find out what Gabriel did to me? At the very least, it’ll give you more ammo against me.” 

Sam shook his head. It was moments like these when he sort of hated his brother.

* * * * *

Castiel was sitting on the picnic table at the back of the house when Sam found him. There was a full moon in the starless sky and the sound of crickets chirping in the breeze. Sam couldn’t help but wonder how many peaceful nights like this there would be left. He walked towards Castiel, two bottles of ice-cold beer in his hand. Bringing beer as a peace offering was more his brother’s style but Sam figured he’d need some kind of alcohol to get through the conversation ahead.

“Dean sent you.” 

So much for easing into the subject. There was no point in denying it. 

“He asked me to speak with you,” Sam said, extending a bottle of beer to Castiel. Cas looked at the bottle for a second before taking it. There was a time when drinking would have been a completely foreign concept to the angel, but that time had clearly passed. Sam eased onto the table beside him and they drank in silence. 

“I behaved poorly upstairs,” Cas said quietly. “I did not mean to,” he confessed, “but Gabriel and your brother took me by surprise. I didn’t realize they had become so close.” 

“I don’t think those two realize they’ve become ‘so close’,” Sam said helpfully. 

“When did that happen?” 

“I’d say it was the night Dean gave Gabriel back his grace.” 

At Castiel’s blank expression, Sam inwardly groaned. Of course, Castiel had no idea about that incident. He’d been a prisoner in Heaven. This was going to be even more awkward than Sam had originally thought. Dean so owed him! 

Castiel listened quietly as Sam told him of how the gods had lured the Winchesters to The Elysian Fields Hotel, of how Lucifer had shown up and slaughtered everyone, of how Gabriel had stood up to his brother and saved them but had been killed in the end by the Devil. Castiel didn’t flinch when Sam recounted Kali’s use of the blood spell to resurrect Gabriel, and how Dean had slept with Gabriel to complete the ritual. Castiel didn’t seem embarrassed by any of this, which was probably for the best since Sam was embarrassed enough for the both of them. When Sam was finally done, he took a long swig of his beer as Castiel processed this newfound knowledge. 

“I see how it happened,” Cas said aloud as if he were talking to himself. 

“See how what happened?” 

“The communion.” 

Sam shook his head. “I’m not following you.” 

“Gabriel has communed with Dean,” Castiel explained. Sam was still looking at him quizzically and the angel knew that he’d have to elaborate. “Communion is not something to be undertaken lightly among my kind. It is a meeting of souls, the highest gift that we can give to one another.” He paused. “Angels often commune within their own ranks. For an archangel to commune with a human . . .” Castiel shook his head. “It is unheard of.” 

“So,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Communion’s a pretty big deal. Why doesn’t Dean know any of this?” 

“I believe Gabriel has wiped it from his mind.” 

“And why would he do that?” 

Castiel was thoughtful and a little sad. “I can only think of one reason. He did not ask for Dean’s permission beforehand, which is a grave offence. Perhaps Gabriel did not intend to commune with your brother, but when Dean restored his grace –“ 

“You mean communion wasn’t part of the ritual?” 

Castiel shook his head. “No, it is something Gabriel did on his own.” 

This was a lot more than Sam had bargained for. 

“But their connection is very strong,” Castiel continued, “even if Dean did not consent to it.” 

“How do you know?” 

“It explains many things.” 

“Like?” 

“Like why Gabriel would risk bringing Dean to Heaven to come after me. He knew that he would be able to hide Dean’s presence.” Castiel laughed softly, but it had a bitter undertone. “That’s why Dean was wearing the acolyte’s robe when I saw him in my cell.” 

“And Gabriel would not have been able to hide my presence in Heaven,” Sam said, thinking aloud. 

“No,” Castiel agreed. He looked at the ground, seeing every blade of grass in its perfection. “But more than anything,” he said softly, “it was seeing them together in that room.” 

The image had been burned in Castiel’s memory. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the longing he had felt. Castiel caught sight of his knee, puzzled by the growing wet spot that had appeared there. Where was that water coming from? He placed his hand to his face and was surprised to feel a wetness there. He stood up hurriedly, almost stumbling in the process. 

“Cas?” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. He could not let Sam see him in this state. “Tell Dean whatever you wish,” he said, his back towards Sam. “I will be back in the morning.” 

And just like that, Castiel was gone.

* * * * *

“So, what are you saying? Communion is like their version of angel sex? And if I don’t consent to it, it’s what? Angel rape?”

“I think it’s a lot more complicated than that, Dean,” Sam sighed. “But basically . . .yeah.” 

“I am going to KILL Gabriel.” 

“And that’s probably why he wiped your mind.” 

Dean was incensed. When Sam began to recount his conversation with Castiel, Dean had been calmly sitting in a chair. At some point, Dean began pacing the room and by the time Sam was done (conveniently leaving out some details), he thought his brother was going to explode. Now Dean had stopped pacing and was standing with his hands on his hips. Sam found this determined calm much more worrying than any imminent outburst. Dean headed towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Sam called. 

No answer. 

“Dean, it’s past midnight.” Sam tried again. “You said Gabriel needed to rest. This can wait till morning.” 

Dean didn’t agree.

* * * * *

The walk to Gabriel’s room was short, but Dean could feel the anger that he had kept at bay returning with every step. This was how Gabriel repaid him for returning his grace? The archangel had used him the entire time. He’d actually thought . . . God, how could he have been so stupid!

Dean barged into the room and walked straight towards the sleeping form. He came up behind Gabriel, who was exactly where he had left him. Dean ignored how peaceful Gabriel looked. He was about to lean over the archangel when he found himself slammed against the wall with a force that left him gasping for breath. Gabriel’s right hand was around his neck, and the archangel held him pinned several feet above the ground. Gabriel was fully alert and there was a dangerous glint in his eye. 

“What happened to your hibernation?” Dean gritted out, aware that Gabriel could snap his neck with the slightest pressure. 

“You woke me with your . . . agitation,” Gabriel replied. “Why so serious, Dean?” 

“Why don’t you tell me?” Dean shot back. “Or are you too much of a coward to face what you’ve done?” The grip around his neck tightened. 

“Be careful. This is the second time you’ve called me a coward.” 

“I would kill you right now if I could,” Dean said vehemently. 

“Yes, I believe you would.” Gabriel’s tone was amused and he stepped closer to Dean, flushing their bodies together as he lowered Dean from the wall. He loosened his hold around Dean’s neck. “But I have a much better idea.” 

Dean’s breathing hitched. Gabriel’s closeness was generating unwanted heat. He knew his body would betray him in a moment. 

“We should have angry sex.” 

“WHAT?” 

“Your serotonin levels are very high,” Gabriel observed, removing his hand from Dean’s neck and placing a kiss where a small bruise was starting to form. 

Dean shut his eyes and grimaced as his body responded to Gabriel’s advances. “I really hate you,” he said. 

Dean could practically feel Gabriel smirking as he continued to trail a line of soft kisses to ease the pain he had caused a moment ago. The archangel had placed his hands on Dean’s hips and was working them under Dean’s t-shirt. If there was one thing Dean couldn’t stand, it was being passive in the bedroom. He placed his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders and pushed him away, fully aware that the only way he could do such an action was if Gabriel allowed it. Gabriel stepped back and Dean wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off the archangel’s face. Gabriel had him and they both knew it. 

“Damn you,” Dean hissed, grabbing Gabriel by his shirt and kissing him fiercely. Gabriel responded immediately, stripping Dean of his outer shirt even as Dean was pushing them back towards the bed. Dean momentarily broke their kiss to slip off his t-shirt while Gabriel set to work on his belt and jeans. Those came off quickly. 

“Your wings,” Dean muttered when he was done unbuttoning, unsure of how he was going to get Gabriel’s shirt off. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Gabriel replied, already sitting on the bed expectantly. He slipped the shirt off and Dean was surprised to see the cloth pass through the wings as though they were immaterial. Well, that was different. 

Dean forgot about the little trick quickly enough since he was more intent on getting Gabriel’s pants off as well. With one final tug, they fell to the floor and Dean climbed on top of the archangel, pushing him deeper into the bed. Gabriel had one more trick up his sleeve, however, and with a push from his right wing, he gracefully flipped the two of them over so that Dean landed on his back with the archangel straddling him at the waist. Dean only had a moment to drink in the sight of Gabriel with his wings extended before the archangel was bending over him, hitting all of Dean’s sensitive spots with his hands and lips. He’d obviously been taking notes the first time. 

“Wait,” he protested as Gabriel reached between his legs to grip Dean’s rapidly hardening shaft. He could feel a reciprocating hardness against his belly where the archangel leaned into him. “Wait,” he said, more forcefully, placing his right hand on Gabriel’s chest to slow the archangel down. 

Gabriel looked annoyed as he sat back and looked at Dean expectantly. “What’s wrong?” 

Dean tried to sit up, but Gabriel had him pinned down hard and fast. “This is just sex, right?” 

Gabriel’s confused expression indicated that he didn’t understand. 

“If we do this,” Dean persisted, “this is just sex. None of your freaky angel stuff. Just ordinary, human sex.” 

Now Gabriel understood. “Of course,” he replied lightly, but Dean could detect the slight surprise in his voice. 

“Gabriel,” Dean said warningly. 

“Just sex,” Gabriel agreed. “Can we have it now?” 

Dean gauged the archangel. The trust he had invested in Gabriel had been significantly diminished since Castiel’s revelation. And if he were being honest with himself, he knew that Castiel would never have betrayed him in such a way. Gabriel was watching him intently. He seemed to be reading Dean’s mind when he loosened his grip and shifted as though he were about to pull away. 

“No,” Dean said, grabbing Gabriel’s arm. He was able to sit up now. “I . . . I want to do this.” 

They were close enough that Gabriel could reach out with his other hand and trace the side of Dean’s face. “This will just be sex,” he said seriously. “I promise.” 

Dean nodded and when he leaned in to kiss Gabriel this time it was different. The pent-up anger that had overcome him not too long ago had dissipated to be replaced with something much more tender and forgiving. Gabriel was pushing him back onto the bed, resuming their former positions. He covered Dean’s body with his own, skillfully allowing their erections to glide over one another until they were rocking to a mutual rhythm. When their breathing became too ragged, Gabriel sat up again and before Dean could object, he turned around so that his back was to Dean. 

Quickly realizing what Gabriel was about to do didn’t prevent Dean from gasping when the archangel impaled himself on Dean’s cock. The action was deliberately slow and exquisite and Dean gripped the bedposts to prevent himself from bucking into Gabriel. He continued to hold onto them for leverage as Gabriel resumed their former rhythm. Dean canted his hips upward to meet each of Gabriel’s downward thrusts. Already they knew each other’s bodies so well. But the one part of Gabriel that Dean still couldn’t fathom was the archangel’s wings. He was mesmerized by the sight of them, how they extended from Gabriel’s back but were not fully stretched out. He marveled at how the moonlight turned the feathers into liquid black diamonds, and the wings became an undulating mass that moved in time to Gabriel’s actions. Dean had a burning desire to touch them, and he leaned forward to brush his hand against the tips of the large feathers nearest to him. The wing trembled. The feathers were colder than Dean remembered and the burst of static that electrified them was also stronger. Gabriel glanced behind him and their eyes met briefly over the top of the archangel’s right wing. 

Dean took that as a cue and sat up, dislodging Gabriel from his place. He put his right hand on Gabriel’s hip and guided the archangel. Gabriel glanced back again before allowing himself to be pushed forward until his weight rested on his hands and knees. His wings rustled slightly as he got used to his new position. Dean had moved with him so that he was now kneeling behind the archangel. From this position, he could observe Gabriel’s wings more closely. He noted how the wings did not originate from Gabriel’s shoulder blades as he had thought or as angel’s wings were commonly depicted in popular culture. No, Gabriel’s wings actually came from his spine. Dean longed to run his hand down Gabriel’s spine and see what would happen. He was just about to do that when he felt a sharp push from the archangel. Gabriel was looking back at him impatiently and Dean almost laughed. He would never admit that he’d gotten distracted during sex. Instead, he slapped Gabriel on the buttock and angled a particularly deep thrust that elicited a moan of contentment from the archangel. Dean resumed his thrusts, hands firmly gripping Gabriel’s hips. Gabriel was breathing heavily, his wings flexing minutely with his exertions. Dean couldn’t resist any longer. He lifted his hand and ran it down Gabriel’s spine. Gabriel’s wings flared in response and Dean felt the small jolt of electricity as it passed through his arm. Gabriel visibly shuddered as Dean’s hand ghosted over the base of his wings. Dean took that as encouragement and splayed his hand along the base, pressing down as he continued his thrusts. Gabriel was trembling beneath him. The pressure on his spine was sending him over the edge, and he came with a violent shudder. Gabriel was exhausted, barely able to support himself as he felt Dean riding the wave of his own orgasm above him. Dean’s euphoria was filtering to him and Gabriel wished he could match it, but the fatigue was setting in quickly. Dean eased himself off the archangel and collapsed back onto the bed, completely sated. 

“No power outages this time?” he joked. 

“Not that kind of sex.” 

Dean’s elation was momentarily dampened at the unspoken allusion. He lifted his head to see that Gabriel hadn’t moved. “You all right?” he asked, somewhat concerned. 

Gabriel didn’t respond and Dean was about to sit up again when the archangel finally shifted. He crawled up the bed and collapsed on his stomach beside Dean, looking far more worn out than he should have been. 

“Gabriel?” Dean’s concern was growing. 

The archangel’s eyes were shut and he was breathing deeply. It looked at though he had slipped back into hibernation immediately. Dean watched him for several minutes, feeling his own breathing returning to normal and the cool breeze that drifted over his warm skin. When he was fairly certain that Gabriel was all right, Dean sat up and swung his legs over the bed’s side. Unfortunately, his clothes were on Gabriel’s side of the bed. 

“You going?” 

Dean started and looked behind him. “Thought you were out.” 

The awkwardness was settling in. After all, they hadn’t actually talked about what had prompted Dean to charge into Gabriel’s room in the first place. 

“I should be soon enough.” Gabriel sounded incredibly tired. 

“Yeah, well. Thought I should go before I get crushed by one of your stone wings.” 

“That wouldn’t happen.” 

“I’ll play it safe.” 

“Dean.” 

Even in his condition, Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to ask Dean to stay. He had secretly hoped that Dean would’ve agreed to commune with him that night, since that would’ve restored his strength significantly. As it was, sex without communion had left him even more drained than before, but there was no way Gabriel was going to let Dean know any of this. He propped himself up as best as he could. 

“I’ll recover my strength quicker if you’re near me.” 

Dean stayed silent. 

“I’m not asking you to cuddle or anything,” Gabriel said exasperatedly. 

Dean looked away. “Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly. If Gabriel needed his help now, then he’d damn well get some answers in return. 

There was a long silence. 

“I don’t know why I did it,” Gabriel said at last. He sighed. “I was weak. And your soul. It was so . . .” 

“So what?” 

Gabriel laughed softly. “You have no idea, Dean,” he said, “how brightly you burn. I couldn’t resist.” 

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “That’s not what Famine told me.” 

“Famine was wrong.” 

Gabriel was losing his battle with fatigue and he put his head down on his pillow, rearranging his wings so they folded neatly behind him when he slipped into hibernation again. He couldn’t force Dean to stay and he’d been more honest with him than . . . well . . . than he’d probably ever been. He closed his eyes, recognizing the signs of his vessel’s body shutting down. He didn’t see, but felt the shift in the mattress as the weight of another person was added to it. As he drifted off, there was the gentle brush of fingertips against the small, delicate feathers on the arch of his left wing.

* * * * *

Castiel heard the summons. The sound of the choir surprised him, and he received it with mixed feelings. There had been a time when the song had brought him great comfort. It meant security. It defined his purpose. After his rebellion, he thought he would never hear the song again. In his diminished capacity, he had still been able to hear some of his brethren but communication with them had been impossible. He had been hunted and alone, cut off from the safety of the only existence he had known. And now the song came to him again, and Castiel chose to answer it.

“You called?” 

Gabriel scrutinized him, arms crossed. “Forgiveness comes at a price, Castiel,” he said severely. “You are under my command now.” Castiel lifted his chin in defiance and Gabriel softened his tone. “Better me than Raphael,” he said quietly. 

“What are your orders?” 

“You’ll go with the Hardy boys to meet Crowley,” Gabriel replied. “Make sure that demon is held in check.” 

“You’re not coming with us?” 

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning me?” 

Castiel hesitated. He had never been under the direct command of an archangel before. Being the member of a garrison had ensured a hierarchy of superiors, and archangels were at the very top of the food chain. Until Raphael and Gabriel, he had not even had any direct contact with one. 

“I was merely concerned about your health,” Castiel said with deference. 

Gabriel laughed. “Oh, stop. My health? You want to know if I communed with Dean last night.” Gabriel was often blunt. “The answer is ‘no.’” He paused. “Although it would’ve sped things up considerably,” he added ruefully. 

Castiel looked at the floor, relief flooding through him. 

“You really should have told Dean sooner.” 

Castiel appeared confused. 

“A blind man can see how much you love him,” Gabriel said dryly. 

“I love all of our Father’s creations,” Castiel replied defensively. 

“Some more than others.” 

Castiel continued to look defiant. 

“Play dumb then,” Gabriel said, somewhat wearily. “Just keep them safe. I’ll join you when I’m able.”

* * * * *

“It will be much quicker if I –“

“We’re driving.” 

There was a brief glaring match between Dean and Castiel before the latter backed down. With a sigh, he got in the backseat of the car. Sam had already been waiting for several minutes in the front. Dean took one more look at the house behind him. Gabriel was nowhere in sight. In fact, he hadn’t seen the archangel all morning, waking up to an empty bed. It figured. Gabriel didn’t seem like a big one for good-byes. But this didn’t seem like a good-bye to Dean at all. There was a seemingly insurmountable task ahead and in his heart he knew that he would see the archangel soon. 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ is the property of Eric Kripke and The CW. No infringement is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
